


Theatre of War

by chaila



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:50:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaila/pseuds/chaila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professors McGonagall and Sprout, behind the scenes, on the front lines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Theatre of War

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isquinnabel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isquinnabel/gifts).



***

> The Gryffindors packed inside the common room listened to Professor McGonagall in silence. She rolled up the parchment from which she had been reading and said in a somewhat choked voice, “I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught."  
>             _\-- Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_

Minerva looked up from an untouched stack of fifth-year essays on the interlocking theories of vanishing and conjuring spells. There were footsteps in the hall. Something rattled. She gripped her wand and pushed back from her desk, ready to rise.

Pomona stepped into view, a tea tray floating cheerfully in front of her. “Evening, Minerva,” she said. She surveyed Minerva’s half-raised wand. “Expecting company?”

“I heard footsteps,” Minerva said somewhat defensively.

“I’m not sure that whatever monster’s loose in the school has feet to make footsteps with,” Pomona pointed out practically. Minerva’s lips thinned slightly, but Pomona waved her off. “You’re right, you’re right,” she said, “No jokes.” She changed the subject. “I thought you’d still be here.” 

Minerva responded with a tight smile. “Marking, you know." She swept her hand in the direction of the essays. "How was patrol?”

“All quiet.”

Minerva nodded. "Severus and Filius are out now?" 

"They are." The tea tray floated down to Minerva's desk, where it landed with a sharp thump, splashing a bit of tea out of the yellow tea pot.

"Oh blast," Pomona said. "Every time." 

"Perhaps we should go out again as well," Minerva suggested, ignoring Pomona's bustle around the desk, cleaning up the spilled tea and filling the cups.  

Pomona ignored her. “Tea?” she offered. "My own blend, you know." She held out a full cup to Minerva. 

Minerva started to get up. "I really think I should go out again."

Pomona stopped her with a hand on her arm. "You were out for hours. So was I. The portraits have all been alerted, as have the ghosts. Severus and Filius are out now, and Albus is always watching, one way or another." 

Minerva remained half out of her chair, undecided.

"You can't keep the school open single-handedly," Pomona said bluntly. "Exhausting yourself won't do any good." 

"Oh very well." Minerva sighed in defeat, and dropped back into her chair, still frowning. 

Pomona smiled carefully, and held out the cup again. Minerva took it and let the cheery yellow cup warm her hands, and the bright mint scent loosen her nerves. 

"Well, drink up,” Pomona suggested. “Cold tea won't do the trick."

They sipped their tea in silence. For now, the school was quiet.

***

> "Professor," Harry mumbled, "Where are Mr. and Mrs. Diggory?" 
> 
> "They are with Professor Sprout," said Dumbledore. His voice, which had been so calm throughout the interrogation of Barty Crouch, shook very slightly for the first time. "She was Head of Cedric's house, and knew him best."  
>             -- _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_

Minerva found Pomona on the long bench outside the greenhouses, sitting just beyond the warm yellow light spilling from their windows.

Pomona saw her coming and stood. "Does someone need me?" She smoothed her robes down and attempted to brush off a patch of dirt that had somehow accumulated on her sleeve. "I’m coming." 

"No," Minerva stepped up next to her and sat down. "Sit. No one needs anything. I came to--well, I came to check on you."

Pomona sat as well. "I’m fine," she said, but her face was drawn and pale, and the traces of tears on her cheeks did not support her self-assessment.

"Where are the Diggorys?" Minerva asked. She had lost track of them during the chaos surrounding Barty Crouch, the Minister and the giants. Anyway, there was no sense in dancing around the subject. 

"They spoke with Dumbledore and then went home. They'll be back tomorrow to--" Pomona stopped and cleared her throat. "They'll be back tomorrow for Cedric."

Minerva put her around Pomona's shoulders, a rare display of physical affection. "We are all so sorry. He was a caring, brave boy and he will be greatly missed." 

Pomona sniffed. "We were all so proud, you know. The Hogwarts champion from our House! It was all any of my Hufflepuffs could talk of in class or in the common room, one of our own winning the tournament against all those other champions." She paused to pull a wrinkled handkerchief out of her pocket to blow her nose. "Eternal glory and all that. Even Mr. Diggory kept repeating how happy Cedric must have been, at least, to have won the Cup."

Minerva spoke quietly. "You did not do this, Pomona. You are not responsible for this. He was a young, bold, clever boy, he was of age, and he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Pomona sniffed her disagreement.

Minerva repeated herself. "You did not do this." 

"I know it's self-centered to blame myself." Pomona said, though she still sounded unconvinced. "None of us could have predicted such an accident, I suppose, but I feel as if I ought to have protected him better." 

She looked over at Minerva and noticed the other witch's expression for the first time; the cold, hard glint in her eyes and the two patches of pink on her cheeks. "Why, Minerva, what is it? Your hand is shaking! What has happened?" 

Minerva paused indecisively. She trusted Pomona implicitly, and she had no doubt about which side of the new order Pomona would be on. But Pomona was not a member of the Order, and the Order had not yet discussed what the other teachers should be told or how to enlist their help. There would, she feared, be plenty of time for that later. 

Minerva tucked her clenched hands into her robes. "Much has happened, Pomona, but the immediate danger has passed,” she said in her best Deputy Headmistress voice. “The staff will discuss it all with Albus in the morning."

Pomona asked bluntly, "Is he back?"

Minerva started, then relaxed. "He is," she said simply. 

Pomona’s eyes widened and her hands clenched into fists too. She asked no more questions and several long minutes ticked by. “I should be getting back,” she said finally. Minerva nodded her assent, and they both rose and walked slowly back to the castle.

***

> Indeed, Professor McGonagall sank back into her chair at the staff table after a few feeble remonstrances and was clearly heard to express a regret that she could not run cheering after Umbridge herself, because Peeves had borrowed her walking stick.  
>             -- _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_  
> 

Pomona watched from the doorway as a piece of parchment floated off the desk in front of Minerva and burst into flame. She had forgotten Minerva’s temper. It was rarely on display, unless you knew Minerva well enough to see it in the clench of a fist or the set of a jaw. Even now, it was still quite buttoned up and controlled, visible only in the hard glint of Minerva’s eyes and the bursts of powerful flames shooting from the end of her wand.

A kitten-covered plate hovered over the desk in front of Minerva. Pomona raised her own wand to halt its progress. She could pretty well predict Minerva's intent. 

Minerva looked up, showing no surprise at seeing Pomona in the doorway of her office. “It really ruins the effect,” she said evenly, “to stop it before the smash.” But she let the plate float back down to the desk. 

"What are you doing?" Pomona asked. 

"Paperwork," Minerva said tightly, burning another piece of parchment. Pomona approached and recognized the stack of Umbridge's educational decrees on the desk.

She let out a brief laugh, a genuine burst of good humor, for the first time in months. It felt good. Still, she did not like to see the dark expression on Minerva's face.

“You cleaned out Umbridge's office?” Pomona guessed, looking over the plates, papers, books, quills and teacups stacked neatly on Minerva's desk. 

Minerva nodded. "And look what I found!" she exclaimed, picking up a quill rather viciously and thrusting it in front of Pomona’s face. Pomona took it gingerly, as Minerva pushed up from her chair and began to pace

"It's a quill," Pomona said rather blankly.

“Look more closely,” Minerva ordered. 

Two more educational decrees went up in flames as Pomona examined the quill. She gasped in recognition. "Surely it's not a blood quill!" 

Minerva stomped back to the desk. "I assure you it is! That monster used a blood quill on our students!" The words were clipped and her nostrils flared. 

“Impossible,” Pomona said. “They would have told us.” 

“I have spoken with several students,” Minerva said. She let the rest hang in the air. “Why they did not report this to me is another matter entirely.” Another educational decree burned; Pomona thought Minerva's wand might snap in her hand.  

 "Torture," Minerva spit. " _Torture_. Under our noses. And we did _nothing_." 

Pomona let Minerva breathe fire for another few minutes before approaching her. “We are none of us omniscient,” she said. “Well, perhaps Sybill.” 

Minerva snorted, amused in spite of herself. She dropped into her chair with a distinct lack of her usual cat-like grace. Then with a single quick flick of her wrist, she swept the entire stack of decrees off the desk and into flames. 

Pomona had to admit that the ball of fire was quite satisfying.

***

> "It's been. . . well, it's not really like Hogwarts anymore," said Neville, the smile fading form his face as he spoke. "Do you know about the Carrows? 
> 
> "Those two Death Eaters who teach here?" 
> 
> "They do more than teach," said Neville. "They're in charge of all discipline. They like punishment, the Carrows."  
>             -- _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_

Minerva trotted through the castle in her cat form. It was late. Late was the safest time for two Hogwarts professors to meet now, even for innocuous reasons. The Carrows were depraved, but they were also lazy. And Professors McGonagall and Sprout were not meeting for innocuous reasons.

Minerva-the-cat slipped past graffiti on the wall: “Dumbledore's Army, Still Recruiting.” The Carrows hadn't been able to find any way to remove the writing.  Even Filch pretended not to know how to remove it, though he had never before met a piece of graffiti he couldn't erase or cover. No spell or potion would remove the words. The enchanted paint they tried melted off immediately. They had eventually settled for covering the wall with a tapestry, which wore away and had to be replaced every other day. Minerva smiled to herself.

She slipped through the crack of a door to the dark kitchens, where Pomona was already waiting. She transformed and they both quickly cast the relevant charms to detect and repel intruders. No one should be by here on patrol for at least an hour--the Carrows felt the kitchens were the domain of lowly house-elves and did not watch them closely--but the situation was always unpredictable. 

"Were you seen?" Minerva asked curtly, knowing the answer. If either of them had been seen, they would know already. 

Pomona shook her head. "They think I'm harmless anyway," she said. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and imitated an aimless wander around the kitchen. “Harmless old woman,” she said. “It’s as good as being an Animagus. It's you they're watching."

Minerva sniffed. "They can try," she said imperiously.  Her tone flattened as she broke her news. “Amycus had the seventh years practice the Cruciatus curse on students who had earned detentions this afternoon. I didn’t know until it was too late.”

"Merlin's beard!" Pomona exclaimed. 

Minerva raised an eyebrow, but went on. "Neville refused," she said. "I have just seen him in the common room, and he is as well as can be expected. But the Carrows were. . . unhappy." 

Pomona felt a bubble of pride beneath the fear. She did not ask how the Carrows had punished Neville. "I will warn Augusta," she said. They had been trying to keep the families of Hogwarts students informed about what was going on inside the school, to the extent it seemed necessary. The Carrows had adopted a strategy of using family members as hostages. It seemed prudent to warn relatives when students incited the Carrows’ ire, so the families knew to prepare for all possibilities. "I can only hope she can be ready it if becomes necessary."

"Oh, Augusta Longbottom will be fine, I should think," Minerva said, amused. "I expect they think her harmless too." She smiled a small smile and her teeth bared, just a little, as Pomona noticed they sometimes did after she had spent time in her Animagus form. 

"I shall contact her tomorrow," Pomona said. "Patronus or Aberforth, do you think?" she asked, referring to their two most reliable methods of communication.

Minerva thought. "Patronus, I think, would be safest." She suddenly let out a huff of frustration. “I feel as if we are in an occupied territory. I can’t abide this waiting. We should be doing more!” 

"We're doing what we can," Pomona said, unruffled. 

"What are we doing? Scuttling around the halls like mice, scattering students out of the halls ahead of the Carrows. Sending messages on a slim chance that foreknowledge will help. It's not enough."

"Of course it's not enough," Pomona said with the air of someone who'd had this conversation before. "But we must remain here, protecting the students for as long as we can. They can't fire all of us without cause, the parents wouldn't stand for it. If they fired you, they'd install another Death Eater. And the Carrows still fear you, I think. It would be worse without you here, Minerva. It is as simple as that.” 

Minerva straightened her hat, which was slightly askew. "Of course you're right." She took a moment to collect herself and then went on briskly. "Anything else?"

"Just one thing," Pomona said, drawing a flask out of her robes and holding it up.

"Firewhiskey?" Minerva said dubiously.

"Not just any firewhiskey," Pomona said. "Aberforth's firewhiskey. He sent it on his last run. For courage, he said. He sent a note." She pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to Minerva.

It said: _To small rebellions_. Minerva smiled, brief but genuine, before burning the note. 

Pomona rummaged around the kitchen until she found two glasses and poured two shots, handing one to Minerva. 

"To small rebellions," Pomona said, raising her glass. “To Hogwarts."

"To Hogwarts,” Minerva agreed.


End file.
